Dead Drunk Poem by Robert Uy
Dead Drunk
He consumes in entirety
That which entirely consumes him
And the spirit of whose neck he has
In his hand in turn possesses him.
When the hour’s hand points
A certain direction then home beckons
Hence it seems not lost
The sense of place and time
Yet when he opens his eyes
Comes the age-old question:
“Where am I? ”
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4/26/2024 7:03:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
